Alone
by Hannielou
Summary: Post-Hogwarts, Harry is an Auror and Ginny is a Mediwitch, both of them dealing with their conflicting feelings for one another while the Voldemort's threat hangs over everyone they love.
1. Chapter One

Well, I sincerely hope you enjoy this story.  It was born out of a frustration with Harry/Ginny pieces and a plot bunny that wormed its way into a dismal writer's block.  I simply had to go with it.

Enjoy:

**Disclaimer:  I do not own Harry, Ginny, Hogwarts, Voldemort or any people/places/things you recognize from the wonderful JK Rowling's _Harry Potter_ series.**

Ginny hadn't even finished Hogwarts.  Midway though her seventh year, just as the NEWT exams were starting to stress her classmates out, she was summoned by Dumbledore.  Quickly, solemnly, he had explained that her advanced Charms work and the medical training she'd had with Madam Pomfrey would be valuable to the cause.  A few tense conversations with her parents later and Ginny was an early graduate of Hogwarts – and a field mediwitch.

          That was how she had ended up with Harry in her tent, lying on the bed and looking awful, bruises and cuts and blood covering his face.  Ginny sighed.  She hated war and she hated healing and she hated that it was only spring and her classmates were still in school, worrying about who was dating who and what nail polish matched what shirt.  

          "Hi," Harry said.

          "Hi." Ginny took a cloth and began to clean his cuts.  "What happened?"

          "Death Eater," Harry said nonchalantly.  "He didn't kill me, but he sent me flying and a couple of strange spells hit me on the way.  Knocked me about.  But I'm alive."  
          "Yeah," Ginny said softly.  Bill, her older brother, couldn't say that anymore.  He had died only two weeks ago, tortured to death by a Death Eater – some said by Lord Voldemort himself.

          "Are you okay?" Harry asked.

          "What do you think?" Ginny asked.  Usually, she was polite and caring and sweet to her patients, but she had known Harry too long for that.  He knew how she felt.  He was just trying to make her forget that day in her sixth year, when they had been dating for three months and she'd overheard a conversation between him and Ron that enlightened her – Harry was dating her out of pity.

          "Do you have many patients?"

          "No," Ginny said sarcastically.  "They're dying out there by the hundreds and you're the only injury."

          "Sorry," Harry said.

          If she hadn't been so eager to prove she deserved Dumbledore's trust, she might just have put a bit of viper venom in the potion she used to clean Harry's cuts, just to make it sting.  But that would be horrid, especially because viper venom was only used for deep, disgusting cuts that hadn't been cleaned for over a week.

          "Where will you go now?" Ginny asked, bandaging up a nasty cut on Harry's wrist.  The Order – Dumbledore's Army – had a strict medical leave policy.  If you were injured badly enough to be taken to the medical tent, you had to rest for a week or more, depending on the injury.  

          "My flat," Harry said. "I'll be safe there for a week."

          "Harry!" Dumbledore appeared in the tent beside the bed, scaring Ginny but not Harry.

          "Dumbledore," Harry said calmly.

          "Is he behaving?" The older wizard asked Ginny, his eyes twinkling.

          "Excuse me sir," Ginny said, walking away.  They had a lot of things to discuss, the two of them.  Sometimes, she eavesdropped, but not today.  Not now.  The war had gotten worse over the past month and Ginny was too busy to eavesdrop.  Already, her next patient was being brought in.

          When Ginny was dismissed that night, she went home.  Her mother wouldn't hear of her taking a flat in London by herself, where most of the other Special Duty wizards and witches lived and instead insisted on Ginny living at home.  

          "Ginny," her mother said warmly.  "How was work?"  That was all she ever said.  Despite the fact that every wizard and witch in the world knew about the Dark War in England, Ginny's mother refused to accept the fact that her only daughter, her baby, worked in a war zone.  Instead, she called it "the field" or simply "work."

          "Fine," Ginny said.  As long as her mother said work, Ginny refused to speak of the horrific examples of curses and injuries delivered to her hourly in that medical tent.

          "Were you in Tent E again today?" Mrs. Weasly asked.

          "Tent A," Ginny said.  "I was with Clarissa again, though.  She's really sweet."

          "That's nice," Mrs. Weasly said.  "Have a cookie."  She offered Ginny a plate of thick chocolate chip cookies.  "They're fresh, this afternoon."

          "Thanks." Ginny took two.  She was just a little bit surprised that her mother was still functioning properly.  Bill's death had been a surprise to them all, but Mrs. Weasly had somehow managed to stay cheerful and calm.

          "Hi, Ginny," Ron said, striding into the room.  "Cookies?  Oi, Mom, why didn't you tell me?"

          "Because she knew you'd eat them all," Hermione said.  Hermione, possibly the smartest Auror England had known in three centuries, was on maternity leave right now.  She was nearly nine months pregnant – and annoyed at her bedridden status.

          "Hello," Ginny said.  She smiled a bit, but she couldn't appear very happy.  She hated Hermione and Ron sometimes, for getting to graduate from Hogwarts and having found each other.  Maybe if she had a boyfriend, or a fiancé, or a husband, this would all be easier.  Probably not.

          "Work tough?" Hermione asked.

          "Same as always," Ginny said, shrugging her shoulders.

          "It has to end sometime, right?" Hermione led Ginny into the living room, her face bright.  Ron liked his desk job fine, thank you very much, and Harry preferred to gloss over the nastier details – but with Ginny, Hermione could get the full scoop, the whole action.

          "It was awful," Ginny moaned as soon as she sank into the couch.  "There was a witch today, really close to death and she kept asking me if I would tell Bertie and I said I would, only I don't know who he is."

          "Is the fighting bad?"

          "Yeah." Ginny wiped her eyes.  "Death Eaters are surrounded our camp by the thousands now.  They've got Dementors alongside them, too, which is doubly worse.  We can't keep up with them."

          "The newspapers don't say…."

          "Of course they don't.  Why would they?  It would only scare the general public.  They keep it a secret, all the work that we do. This girl, Clarissa that I'm paired with.  Her parents think she's doing a year abroad.  She writes all kinds of letters and uses magic to postmark them Italy and France and Spain.  They don't know she's a mediwitch in a battle zone."

          "Oh." Hermione sighed.  "I wish I could be there."

          "No, you don't." Ginny looked sideways at the older girl.  "You're lucky, Hermione.  You got to finish Hogwarts and start a life.  I'm only seventeen, and I've seen more blood and death than most people see in a lifetime.  It isn't fair."

          "I wish it would end," Hermione said.  "This thing has carried on for too long.  That's true enough.  But while it's going, I'd like to be able to say that I'm helping.  You can't understand what it's like to sit here…."

          "I suppose I can't," Ginny said.  "I guess you're right.


	2. Chapter Two

Well, I sincerely hope you enjoy this story.  It was born out of a frustration with Harry/Ginny pieces and a plot bunny that wormed its way into a dismal writer's block.  I simply had to go with it.

Enjoy:

**Disclaimer:  I do not own Harry, Ginny, Hogwarts, Voldemort or any people/places/things you recognize from the wonderful JK Rowling's _Harry Potter_ series.**

Cricketlover: Wow.  I totally missed that.  It's a good point, though – I guess I meant that Hermione was working up until she hit nine months.  She wanted to work through her pregnancy as much as possible.

Peas and Carrots:  You're right.  I think I explain the whole Auror-too-soon thing in this chapter.  The Order was so desperate for Aurors that they grabbed them up with a month or two or basic training.

            Harry never saw the Weaslys anymore.  Well, he'd seen Ginny just earlier today, in the medical tent and he saw Hermione and Ron often enough, but he'd given up on Mr. and Mrs. Weasly as parents.  He didn't need parents anymore.  For crying out loud, he was eighteen years old and one of the best Aurors on the field.  He was strong and handsome and rich and he should've been spending his time with girls, but he couldn't do that now.  Nobody did that now.  Everybody young enough – parents' consent or not – was on the field, dying to protect…dying to protect something, anyway.  Harry wasn't quite certain what Voldemort was trying to take away.

          Anyway, when Harry was off the field, all he could think about was Ginny.  That was why he'd given the Weaslys.  Whenever he was with them, Ginny was too, and it was too hard to see Ginny without remembering that day back in seventh year….

          Life had been very, very good.  Harry had finally managed to capture Ginny's attentions, and they were a couple.  Ron was happy, too, having hinted at the situation for years, until he saw them making out in the hallway during one of his patrols as prefect and went off on a terrible rant.  Harry, to appease him, had listed any number of reasons for dating Ginny – one had been pity.  But it wasn't true, and Ginny wasn't meant to overhear it.  That was where the problem lay.

          Harry sighed.  He could be at the Weaslys now.  He could be at his flat right now, if Dumbledore hadn't allowed him to return to the field.  But then, lying on that cot, watching Ginny bend over another patient, Harry realized he couldn't take a week of rest.  He needed to be out there, fighting.

          "Coming, mate?" Donathan Lewis was three years older than Harry, but this was his first year of real on the job work, too.  

          "Yeah."  Harry jumped off of his bed.

          "Saw you disappear into that med tent," Donathan said conversationally as they made their way to the mess hall.  "You injured or just making time with that pretty nurse?"

          "Injured," Harry said, ignoring the comment about the nurse.  "Nothing serious though.  I pleaded my case with Dumbledore and he let me go." 

          "I'd give anything to get off this crap," Donathan said, "but I owe it to my parents.  Especially my Mum.  She was so proud when I told her I'd become an Auror."

          "There I'm lucky," Harry said with a faint smile.  "I always wanted to be an Auror."

          "But we're not really Aurors, are we?" Donathan asked.  "We're an army armed with wands and robes and silly incantations.  Aurors are special class, hard to get into, big time jobs and we just signed up and they took us on."

          "Yeah." Harry opened the door to the mess hall.  The food was decent here, conjured up by three older witches who had worked in the Ministry for ages, had retired and were asked to take this honored position.  They had fun, too, and the food was reminiscent of the better feasts during Harry's Hogwarts days.

          He took a place beside Fiona, the shy Scottish witch and Bran, the angry Welsh wizard.  The three of them made up the backbone of the Auror Squad, the highly dangerous and terribly important secret missions squad, the only eight Aurors in the country that sought Death Eaters out.

          "This is crap," Bran said.  "Not the food – I mean, have you heard?  They're thinking of cutting the Squad.  It's too much effort and they need manpower here."

          "Oh." Fiona stared down at her food.  Harry grinned to himself.  He liked them both very much.  He liked that they were so perfectly themselves all the time.  Fiona was _never loud and Bran was __never happy.  _

          "Then we'll be suck here all the time?" Harry asked.

          "Yeah." Bran jammed his fork into a piece of steak.  "Stuck on this field until the day we die."

          "Better than a desk job," Clarence Patrick said, sitting down beside them.  Clarence was a round, older wizard who reminded Harry of Neville Longbottom.  He wasn't a good wizard, but the Order was so desperate for Aurors that they had to sign him up.

          "That's true," Fiona said.

          "Like crap it is," Bran said fiercely.  "You all are lucky; I've got a girl back home and it's this damn war's fault I'm not with her now.  You got no connections.  Especially you, Harry.  Damn lucky orphan."

          Thoughts of Ginny flew into Harry's mind.  Maybe there would've been a chance – however slight – of the two of them together, if there hadn't been a war.

          "Don't talk like that," Clarence was saying.  "If you were an orphan, young man, you wouldn't feel that way."

          "It's okay," Harry said quietly.  But Clarence was right.  There were few things Harry wouldn't give for his parents alive. He could imagine them beside him, guiding him, helping him.  

          "You got hurt today?" Clarence asked.

          "Just a few scratches.  Most of those Death Eaters can't control their curses.  This one happened to land on me."

          "It's a pity," Clarence agreed.  "I wish I was fighting real monsters – and there are the Dementors, of course – but those Death Eaters are a mindless herd."

          "Yeah." Harry sighed.

          Harry hated trying to fall asleep.  His thoughts were free then, and they liked to settle on Ginny – on Ginny's hair and eyes and smile and her figure and the clothes she wore when she was in muggle London.  Not that she didn't look good in robes – Ginny could make any outfit worthy of a princess.

          Harry rolled over and fumbled for the book on his dresser.  It was a photo album, from pictures he'd taken in his last year at Hogwarts, when Hermione and Ron had pitched in to give him a wizard camera for Christmas.

          Quickly, because he knew the book so well, Harry found the section he was looking for.  Sighing heavily, he turned the pages – pictures of him and Ginny smiling out from every page.  Ron had taken most of these for them.  Harry ran a finger over the pictures.  

          God, but he'd do anything to get that time back.


	3. Chapter Three

Well, I sincerely hope you enjoy this story.  It was born out of a frustration with Harry/Ginny pieces and a plot bunny that wormed its way into a dismal writer's block.  I simply had to go with it.

Enjoy:

**Disclaimer:  I do not own Harry, Ginny, Hogwarts, Voldemort or any people/places/things you recognize from the wonderful JK Rowling's _Harry Potter_ series.**

Cricketlover: Wow.  I totally missed that.  It's a good point, though – I guess I meant that Hermione was working up until she hit nine months.  She wanted to work through her pregnancy as much as possible.

Peas and Carrots:  You're right.  I think I explain the whole Auror-too-soon thing in this chapter.  The Order was so desperate for Aurors that they grabbed them up with a month or two or basic training.

            Ginny was not an early riser.  This morning, however, the sun woke her, coming in through the window and settling on her bed.  She grinned.  It was nice that the sun could shine, even though the war was on and Aurors were dying daily.  It was nice that Voldemort couldn't cap the sun, even though he managed to stall, hurt or kill everything else that made her world bright.

          She sighed.  Sometimes she simply wished Harry would just go and face off with Voldemort.  Ever since the _Daily Prophet_ had discovered the prophesy and had published it, Ginny had fearfully awaited the day that Harry or Voldemort would die.

          Even though she would care about Harry's death, even though it was more for her mum's sake than anything else, Ginny wished that they would go at it already, and end the suffering of wizards and witches everywhere.  After all, it seemed a bit selfish for Harry to wait and watch all the others get killed, while he – and only he – had the power to mend the whole mess.

          Ginny took a quick shower and pulled out the blue and green robes she had to wear as her uniform.  They weren't too strict out on the field, and several members of the medi-squad liked to wear muggle clothes, for there was always the fear that a dangling sleeve would knock a dangerous potion to the ground, spilling the contents and perhaps injuring the wizard or witch or the patient.

          Ginny liked the robes.  They made her feel a little more grown up in the crazy, mixed-up war.  She didn't have to remember that she had graduated early from Hogwarts, that she was the youngest mediwitch or wizard on the squad.  

          "You're up," Mrs. Weasley said as Ginny walked down the stairs.  "Do you have time for a bite?"

          "Yeah." Ginny sat down at the table.  "I've got a week-long shift, Mum, you know.  I'll try and owl, but it's likely to be awfully hectic."

          "Of course, dear," Molly Weasley said absent-mindedly.  She laid a plate down in front of Ginny: a traditional English breakfast, complete with eggs, mushrooms, tomato, sausage and buttered toast.

          "Thanks," Ginny said, and set about clearing the plate.  When that was done, she grabbed her kit from the sideboard and stood up, to give her mother a kiss on the cheek.

          "Don't do anything dangerous," Mrs. Weasley said.  "And come back as soon as you can, dear."

          "Of course." Ginny kissed her mother and quickly Disapparated.

          Ginny surveyed the tent.  It was Tent C today, the worst tent to be in because it was situated in the center of the battlefield and the worst injuries were brought in.  It staffed four wizards or witches, rather than two, and ran eight beds, rather than four.  The potions stock was kept nearly bursting and if any wizard or witch so much as thought of another tool they'd like, it appeared in front of them.

          But that didn't make Ginny any happier.  She would've traded a full bottle of Pansiala any day for a week in Tent A, where the most anyone saw was a broken kneecap or a shattered femur.  

          "Hey, partner." Jeremy Lewis walked in.  Ginny smiled shyly.  Jeremy was handsome and smart and one of the best wizards on the medi-squad.  And he liked her, too – several witches had confided as much.  

          "Hi," Ginny said.

          "Tent C," Jeremy said with a grin.  "It's a great day to be alive."

          "If you like the sick and the wounded and the dying," Ginny replied, pretending to be busy pulling on the standard issue smock and filling it with basic medical supplies.

          "That's not what I meant," Jeremy said.  "There are dying people everywhere.  You're only in one tent."

          "O-oh." Ginny quickly walked toward the cabinet, as if her intent was to fetch more gauze strips.

          "Ginny."  Jeremy leaned against the cabinet.  "Was it something I said?"

          "No." Ginny found the gauze box and grabbed a few strips.  The truth was, Jeremy reminded her of Harry, back in school when Harry was full of himself for being Quidditch captain and a good student.  Maybe Harry wasn't _full _of himself, exactly, but during his seventh year he'd been awfully pleased and somewhat cocky.  Cocky enough to date Ginny out of pity.  So, of course, it would make sense that Ginny didn't want to acknowledge Jeremy's feelings for her because he was probably only feeling them out of pity.  Right?

          Ginny shuddered.  There was another possibility – one she hadn't considered for nearly a year.  Maybe she was still in love with Harry. Maybe she didn't want to acknowledge Jeremy's feelings toward because she wanted Harry's love.  She hoped that wasn't true.  She wanted to forget Harry because he had certainly proved that he didn't like her.

          There was a light bell sound in Ginny's ear and she turned expectantly toward the tent flap. There was a patient coming in.

          "I'll take it," Jeremy said unexpectedly.

          "No." Ginny smiled half-heartedly.  "I was off last night.  I'm ready."

          She winced as the patient was wheeled in – a girl, her blonde hair and camouflage robes caked with blood.

          "Fiona," Jeremy said, shaking his head.  "Member of the Squad, you know.  Excellent Auror.  You're right.  You take her.  I'll handle the next one."

          Ginny stared after him, curious, but relieved.  Already the next patient was being rolled in and this time it came toward his station.  

          Ginny picked up the card on the table beside Fiona.

          _Fiona Collins_

_          Age: Twenty-three_

_          Schooling: __Hogwarts__Academy__ of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_          Injured: Fiona was injured in a duel between a Death Eater and herself at approximately six-thirteen this morning.  She was found on the ground beside injured Aurors Harry Potter and Bram Willis.  _

          Ginny sighed.  As usual, the card wasn't informative.  Obviously, there had been a duel.  That or some stray hex or jinx or curse.  And why did a medic need to know where their patient had been to school?  Seemed like useless information to Ginny.  She'd like to know more about the injury – it was so much easier to deal with wounds when you knew what had caused them.

          "Fiona?" Ginny asked quietly.  The girl made no response.  Ginny reached into her pocket for her wand and murmured a quick spell.  Suddenly, the girl was clean, her body and hair clear of the caked blood.

          Sighing, Ginny began to work on the girl.

          When all was clear with Fiona, about three hours later, during which Jeremy had quickly healed thirteen patients, Ginny stepped outside for a bit of fresh air.

          It was rather odd, she'd always thought, that when you stepped out of the medical tents, you were in the middle of the woods.  The war was being fought secretly, with loads of disguised Death Eaters and plenty of guerilla warfare.  Therefore, the tents were strategically placed around the battlefield – which was, in reality, the entire country of England.  

          Ginny smiled.  From her Muggle Studies classes she knew that it would be a strange idea to the non-wizard people, because they had to spend large amounts of time getting places.  She could simply Apparate.

          "Ginny?" Jeremy tapped her on the shoulder.  "Are you all right?"

          "Just tired." Ginny grinned half-heartedly.  "How do you know Fiona?  She's going to be all right, by the way."

          "Thanks." Jeremy sighed.  "Yeah, Fiona and I were dating before the war.  We went to Hogwarts together and we were this close to marriage…and then we separate ways during the war.  Fiona became an Auror – one of the best – and I joined the medic squad.  And suddenly we had no time for each other and our relationship dwindled down to nothing.  That's it.  No drama." 

          "Oh."  Ginny leaned against the tent pole.

          "Are you with somebody?"

          "I'm seventeen," Ginny said with a tiny smile.  "I'm not ready to date anybody.  Not yet, anyway."

          "Oh." Jeremy nodded.  "I forgot.  Still, I remember dating in Hogwarts."

          "Yeah…Harry Potter." Ginny flushed red with the memories.  "We dated for three months.  But that's over now."

          "I saw him today," Jeremy said quietly.  "Carol had him over on the other side of the tent.  He wasn't in good shape."

          "I don't care," Ginny said stiffly.  "Honestly, I don't care about Harry Potter anymore."

          And yet, somehow, she didn't feel as comfortable saying those words as she should've.


End file.
